


Dimming of the Day

by enigmaticblue



Series: It's a Wonderful Life [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 07:26:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1501823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set sometime after Tabula Rasa. With Giles’ departure, and her growing attraction to Spike, Buffy can’t resist the offer of answers to her questions, but will the answers be what she expects?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dimming of the Day

_“This old house is falling down around my ears/I’m drowning in a river of my tears/When all my will is gone you hold me sway/I need you at the dimming of the day./You pulled me like the moon/Pulls on the tide./You know just where I keep my better side…Come the night you’re only what I want./Come the night you could be my confidant…I need you at the dimming of the day.” ~Richard Thompson_

 

**Part I: Questions**

 

“Dawn! Have you eaten yet?”

 

Silence answered her, and Buffy climbed the stairs to Dawn’s bedroom. “Dawn?” she called, knocking on the door. “What do you want for dinner?” She still didn’t get an answer, so she opened the door, only to find the room empty.

 

Buffy sighed, leaning up against the wall wearily. “Crap.”

 

It was one thing after another with her younger sister. One thing after another since coming back from the dead. If she wasn’t running out of money, she was dealing with a friend who seemed to be hooked on magic, a vampire whose attentions weren’t nearly as unwelcome as she wanted him to think, and an apathy so profound it frightened her.

 

There were days when all she wanted was to get away, just disappear until she’d actually adjusted to being _alive_ again, let alone being the Slayer, the girl everybody seemed to think had all the answers.

 

She poked her head into Willow’s room, but the witch was gone. Buffy wondered how she was dealing with Tara’s absence, or if she was dealing at all. She felt like she was also failing Willow, like she should have been able to stop her from going off the deep end.

 

Or maybe Willow shouldn’t have brought her back from the dead. There was an idea.

 

She rubbed her temples, trying to stave off the headache that threatened. She had to look for Dawn and then maybe figure out what she was going to make for dinner. Probably a frozen pizza; her culinary skills and her budget wouldn’t let her do much more.

 

She went to the kitchen to get a drink of water before leaving and saw the note on the fridge. “Buffy, I’m going to Janice’s for dinner tonight. I tried to talk to you, but you weren’t paying attention.”

 

“Crap,” Buffy muttered, reading between the lines to the hurt in Dawn’s short note. This was what Giles had been trying to bring to her attention, but Buffy couldn’t seem to do anything right. She couldn’t connect with her sister, her friends, anyone—except for a certain vampire, and that scared her more than the possibility of her own death ever had.

 

She grabbed a jacket and left the house, making sure she had a stake with her. There was always her duty to do; it seemed to fill up the lonely nights admirably.

 

And if she met Spike while she was out, she’d just have to tell him to stay away from her.

 

~~~~~

 

“You shouldn’t be here, Bit,” Spike said, stepping out of the shadows behind the girl. He’d had to move quickly to avoid the sunlight.

 

Dawn started. “I didn’t see you there.”

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

“I came to see you.” She shifted from foot to foot. “I told Buffy I was going to Janice’s.”

 

Spike glared at her. “Have you forgotten what happened the last time you lied about where you were going?”

 

Dawn rolled her eyes. “No, but you’re the only vampire I’m going to be meeting, so I don’t see what the problem is.”

 

“The problem is that your sister’s going to blame me for leading you astray.” He glanced outside the crypt, frowning. The sun hadn’t set yet, but it would be dark before Dawn reached her house. “Let’s go.”

 

She didn’t move. “No.”

 

“Bit—”

 

“I haven’t seen you in weeks!” she protested. “You’re never around anymore. I thought…”

 

She trailed off, but Spike thought he knew what she hadn’t said. “Dawn—”

 

“Don’t.” Dawn glared at him. “When you use my name, you’ve always got bad news. I don’t want to hear it.”

 

He sighed. “Your sister thinks I’m a bad influence on you.”

 

“What?” Dawn snorted. “Please. Doesn’t she know that you stayed with me every other night because the others were conspiring to bring her back from the dead?”

 

“She knows,” Spike said softly. “’Course she knows. But that was before she got back.”

 

Dawn shook her head. “I’ll talk to her. I’ll tell Buffy that you were great, the perfect role model.”

 

Spike let out a bark of laughter. “Don’t overdo it, pet. She’ll never buy it.”

 

“Then I’ll tell her I feel safer with you than with anybody else,” Dawn insisted. “She’ll have to listen to me.”

 

“Slayer doesn’t have to listen to anybody,” Spike replied. “Much as we’d all like to think otherwise.” He saw the disappointed expression on her face. “But if you want to try, I won’t stop you.” Raising an eyebrow, he asked, “You coming?”

 

Dawn sighed. “Yeah, I guess.”

 

Spike touched her shoulder, awkwardly trying to offer comfort. “It’s gonna be fine, Bit. We’ll work it out.”

 

She shook her head. “How, Spike? You saw her after Giles left. She’s not fine. It’s like there’s a part of her that’s missing.”

 

He didn’t reply, instead leading the way through the trapdoor towards the entrance to the sewer tunnels. Spike knew even better than Dawn did that Buffy wasn’t fine.

 

And he wasn’t sure she would ever be fine again.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy stopped outside the small shop with the curious sign on the door. It read—rather boastfully, she thought—“All Your Questions Answered.”

 

“I wish,” she muttered, turning to walk away.

 

“And what is it you wish?”

 

The voice startled her, and she whirled, her hand going to the stake hidden in her jacket. “Who’s there?”

 

“No one who means you any harm.” The man emerged from the shop, his salt-and-pepper hair falling over one eye, and his dark eyes warm. He had a kind face, although Buffy had long since learned to distrust what her eyes told her about a person.

 

Sometimes when Spike looked at her she could almost believe that he really did love her, and she knew that was a lie.

 

“I’m not buying,” Buffy said, raising a hand to ward off any sales pitch he might offer. “Sorry.”

 

He smiled genially. “Who said I was selling? For you, my dear, the answers are free.”

 

Buffy stiffened. “I don’t need anything.”

 

“Of course, you do,” he replied, his eyes crinkling up at the corners as he smiled. “You have quite a bit on your mind, and no wonder.”

 

Buffy frowned. She didn’t trust him; she knew better than that. At the same time—what if he was telling the truth? What if she could get the answers to even a few of her questions? “What kind of questions do you answer?”

 

“All kinds,” he replied. “Mostly questions of ‘what if’ and paths not taken. Or paths you’ve yet to take.” He gestured her inside the shop. “Please. It’s the least I could do.”

 

Buffy shook her head. “No, that’s okay. I should really be going.”

 

His gaze was piercing, reminding her of Spike. Spike had looked at her like that in the Bronze, right after Giles had left. Like he wanted to listen, like he wanted to solve her every problem, if only she would let him.

 

This man, too, looked at her as though he could see right down to her core. “My dear, you have such a great burden. I would like to lighten it.”

 

“You don’t know me,” she objected.

 

“Don’t I?” he asked. “You are the Chosen One, the one girl in all the world. Your journey was over, and now it’s begun again. You feel as though you’re wandering aimlessly, as though nothing in this world can matter quite as much as the one you’ve left. You feel empty, and the one person who can offer you solace is the one person you believe is most dangerous to you.” He raised an eyebrow. “How am I doing?”

 

Buffy swallowed. “Really well. Who are you?”

 

“A friend.” He opened the door once again. “But you may call me Casamir.”

 

~~~~~

 

Dawn looked around the empty house. “See? Buffy isn’t even home, so we didn’t have to rush back.”

 

“I’d rather beat her back here than the other way around,” Spike replied, standing awkwardly in the hallway. He’d been so comfortable here during the long, hot summer months with Dawn. He’d been needed in a way that he hadn’t been in a very long time, and it had been a balm to his wounded spirit.

 

“I’m hungry,” she announced, heading into the kitchen.

 

Spike followed her, feeling as though he had little choice in the matter. He could tell that no one else was home, and that Dawn shouldn’t be left alone. The danger wasn’t as great as it had been when Glory had been around, but the girl would always be a target as the sister of the Slayer.

 

He caught a glimpse of the contents of the refrigerator when she opened the door. “Where’s your food?”

 

“We don’t have any,” she replied glumly. “Tara was the one who was doing most of the grocery shopping and cooking, but she’s not here anymore. And Buffy isn’t eating much these days.”

 

“Yeah, I noticed,” Spike muttered. She’d felt thinner to him when he’d held her in the Bronze on both nights—the first when he’d prevented her from dancing to death, and the second when she’d tried to lose herself in him.

 

He had known exactly what she wanted from him, and he’d given it willingly. The fact that she’d been using him still stung, though.

 

Spike pulled out his wallet to check whether or not he had enough cash for dinner. “Right, then. Pizza or Chinese?”

 

Dawn looked at him hopefully. “Really?”

 

“Yeah, might as well. If your sister comes home while we’ve got the food out, maybe she’ll eat.”

 

Dawn made a face. “Good luck.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Is something going on between you guys?” she asked.

 

Spike froze, knowing that if he let slip to Dawn that he and Buffy had shared more than conversation, he’d be as good as dust. “What makes you ask?”

 

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Please, Spike. I’m not stupid.”

 

“Never said you were.” Spike decided that ignoring the question she’d left hanging would be his best bet.

 

She gave him a look that said she knew exactly what he was trying to do. “Well? Is there something going on?”

 

“No.”

 

“Liar.”

 

Spike closed his eyes, torn between his desire to give Buffy exactly what she wanted and his loyalty to Dawn, who loved him for himself, and who wanted nothing more than his company. “I don’t know.”

 

“You don’t know what’s going on?”

 

“I don’t know what your sister wants,” he admitted. “And that’s all I’m gonna say.”

 

Dawn met his eyes, and he could see understanding there. “I’m in the mood for Chinese,” she said, changing the subject.

 

“Then that’s what we’ll get. Figure out what you want, and I’ll make the call.” He was grateful that she’d let it drop; Dawn could be incredibly persistent when she wanted to be.

 

Spike glanced at the clock. Buffy was probably out on patrol and would likely be out for hours yet. She’d be pissed as hell that he was hanging around Dawn, but at the moment he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to leave the girl alone.

 

He’d figure the rest out later.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy entered the dim shop cautiously, hardly able to believe that she was doing this. As much as she’d seen and done in Sunnydale, she wasn’t sure she bought this psychic, fortune-telling stuff. Sure, she had a destiny, but it wasn’t like she needed confirmation.

 

“Would you like some tea?” Casamir asked. “I find that it calms the nerves.”

 

Buffy hesitated. “Yeah, sure. Thank you.” She sat down at the small table while he poured hot water from an electric kettle. It seemed out of place, although practical.

 

“It is my pleasure. You’ve done much for the world. Perhaps it’s time for the world to do something for you.”

 

Buffy snorted. “Right.”

 

“You do not think yourself worthy of help?”

 

She was taken aback by his question. “What do you mean?”

 

“I suggest that perhaps you’ve had a lucky break, and you scoff.” Casamir raised an eyebrow. “This either means that you are very cynical, or that you do not believe yourself worthy of help.”

 

“Try cynical,” Buffy said. “It’s not like anything has gone right for me recently.”  


“Oh?”

 

He was a stranger; she had no reason to tell him anything. And yet—he _was_ a stranger, it didn’t matter what he thought of her, and he wasn’t as dangerous as Spike was. Her story spilled out—from her sacrifice, to her resurrection, to her confusion over being alive. She held nothing back; after all, he already knew she was the Slayer.

 

It felt good to get it off her chest, better yet to voice exactly how angry she was at her friends for bringing her back, at Spike for confusing her every time she turned around, at Dawn for being a typical teenager.

 

“I can’t believe I’m telling you all of this,” Buffy said abruptly, cutting her story off in mid-flow. “I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time.” She put her cup down and stood to leave.

 

“Don’t you want your answers?” Casamir asked softly. “It is what you came in for.”

 

She shook her head. “I don’t know what I’m doing here. I should be out patrolling. I should—”

 

“Sit.” The gentle command had her sitting for some unknown reason. Perhaps this was what she had really needed—to talk to someone who would listen, and who would ask for nothing in return. It was one of the reasons that she found Spike’s company so appealing. He hadn’t asked for anything until the night he’d sung to her of his feelings.

 

Casamir poured more tea for both of them. “Ask your questions, Slayer, and open your heart to the answers.” Gracing her with an odd little smile, he added, “Love, give, and forgive,” he added, repeating what the First Slayer had told her.

 

Buffy’s eyes went round and wide, and she set her cup down on the table with a clatter. “How did you know?”

 

“Is that really the question you want to ask?” he asked.

 

She shook her head, no longer sure that she wasn’t dreaming. This was too surreal to be happening.

 

“Very well.” Casamir stood, going behind the counter and rustling around. “It is a simple ritual. I will ask you to write down three questions, then you will burn the slips of paper one by one.”

 

Buffy raised a skeptical eyebrow, but she didn’t comment. After all, she wasn’t paying for the service, so she didn’t have anything to lose. “Okay.”

 

Casamir smiled, as though he had read her mind. “You will be shown everything you need to know,” he promised. “I can show you all manner of ‘what ifs.’ It works best if you ask those questions most dear to your heart.” He put the slips of paper and the pen on the table. “I’ll leave you to it while I get the rest of my supplies.”

 

He headed for the back of the store; for a moment, Buffy considered ducking out of the shop, but she’d come this far. Setting her jaw determinedly, she scribbled down her three questions—or three possibilities, rather.

 

She’d just dotted her last “i” when Casamir returned, placing a brass bowl on the table in front of her. He dropped a handful of aromatic wood shavings in the bowl, then sat down across from her. “Are you ready?”

 

Buffy nodded jerkily. “What do I do?”

 

“Simply relax, and breathe deeply.” He put a match to the shavings and instructed, “Drop your first question in the fire.”

 

She took a deep breath, and the pungent, spicy scent assailed her nostrils. With a trembling hand, she dropped the first slip into the gentle flames, seeing the dark letters flare red before darkness overtook her.

 

“ _What if I hadn’t come back?_ ”

 

**Part II: Without You**

 

Buffy was standing in her own living room, the house silent. “Casamir?” she called. She got no response, and she turned warily, realizing that she was standing in the midst of destruction. The windows had been broken, the couch overturned and the cloth slashed. Broken knick-knacks lay scattered on the floor, and she put a hand over her mouth, suddenly afraid.

 

“Dawn!” she called. “Dawn! Where are you?”

 

A whisper of sound was the only answer she received, and Buffy froze, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. “Hello? It’s Buffy.”

 

She heard the back door open, and she rushed to the kitchen, seeing Spike slip inside, a bulge under his duster. “Spike? What’s going on?”

 

He didn’t even look up, shutting the door behind him and grabbing a chair to wedge under the handle. When Spike headed towards the door to the basement without a glance in her direction, Buffy knew that she was invisible.

 

Following him down the stairs, Buffy was relieved to see her sister sitting on the small cot they’d kept for the occasional guest. “Spike!” Dawn shot to her feet. “Are you okay?”

 

Now that Dawn had asked the question, Buffy could see that Spike’s face was scratched and bruised. “I’m fine, Bit,” he assured her. “Got something for you to eat.”

 

Dawn reached for the paper sack with the kind of speed that told Buffy she wasn’t eating regularly. “Thanks. How bad is it out there?”

 

“Think they’re starting to get tired of this town,” he replied, sitting down next to her. “Didn’t see as many of them tonight, and I heard a couple of them talking about leaving for greener pastures.”

 

Dawn frowned, ripping into the bag of chips, and dropping the candy bars on the cot. “Did you see any of the others?”

 

Spike shook his head silently.

 

“Do you think they’re—” Dawn stopped, her eyes pleading with him to lie.

 

Spike sighed. “Dawn.”

 

“You know, don’t you?” she asked.

 

He looked her straight in the eyes. “Do you want the truth?”

 

Dawn nodded.

 

“Yeah. I do know. They didn’t last out the first night.”

 

She shut her eyes. “I think I already knew.”

 

Buffy realized with a sinking heart that they were talking about her friends. She wondered what had happened to Giles, and remembered that he had gone back to England just before they’d performed the resurrection spell. Hadn’t Spike called him? Or had it even been possible? How long had they been living like this?

 

“We’ve got to get out of town,” Spike said softly. “Think we’ve got a shot at it now.”

 

Dawn leaned back against the wall. “Where are we going to go, Spike?”

 

“L.A., for starters,” he replied wearily. “One of Angel’s gang used to be a Watcher, right? He might know how to contact Rupert.”

 

“I’m really sorry, Spike. I don’t know where Willow put his phone number, and—”

 

“Hush.” He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “Isn’t your fault everything went to hell, and it’s not your fault that Red didn’t write down the bloody number where we could get to it.”

 

“If they hadn’t burned the Magic Box down—”

 

“They wouldn’t be Hellions,” Spike interrupted, his tone rueful. “But, yeah. I already checked, and there’s nothing salvageable there.”

 

“Is that where they were?”

 

“Think so.”

 

The picture was becoming clearer to Buffy. She vaguely remembered the biker demons; everything had been a little fuzzy immediately after her resurrection, but she recalled killing more than a few of them.

 

Without the Slayer, however, the demons had had free rein, and had apparently plundered and pillaged to their hearts’ content.

 

Which meant that if Willow hadn’t raised her that night—

 

“Do you think Giles is worried about us?” Dawn asked.

 

Spike shook his head. “Hasn’t been a week yet since he left, and if I know Rupert, he wouldn’t be expecting a call this soon. It’ll be a few days yet before he tries to call, and when he can’t get through, that’s when he’ll start to worry. I aim to be out of town before then.”

 

“How?”

 

“Your mum had a car, right? They didn’t bother with the garage.” Spike slowly disentangled himself and stood. “You’d best get some sleep, Bit.”

 

“What about you?” Dawn asked, sounding determined. “You haven’t slept since they came to town.”

 

“I’ll be fine.”

 

Dawn shook her head. “You were the one who said the demons sleep during the day. I can take the first watch.”

 

“Dawn—”

 

“I’m not sleeping until you do, and you know how cranky I am when I haven’t gotten any sleep.”

 

He let out an exasperated breath, glaring at the girl. Buffy couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her lips. She’d made that exact same sound when faced with Dawn’s obstinacy in the past. “Fine.”

 

“You take the bed.”

 

Spike looked up at the ceiling, as though to ask, “Why me?” Buffy noticed that he didn’t argue, though, instead laying down and wrapping his duster tightly around him. “Wake me up in four hours,” he ordered. “I mean it, Bit.”

 

“Will do.” Dawn settled herself on the floor next to the cot, her head resting against the mattress. Buffy watched as Spike began to stroke her hair with one hand. After a few minutes, he stilled, asleep. Fat tears began to run down Dawn’s cheeks, and she wrapped her arms around her knees, resting her forehead against the denim as she cried silently.

 

Buffy wanted nothing more than to comfort her sister, but it was impossible. Although she knew that what she was seeing hadn’t happened, would never happen, it was all too real.

 

The hours passed slowly. Dawn remained awake, occasionally rising to pace around the dim basement, or to head up the stairs. Buffy supposed that going above ground was safe enough during the day, at least for short periods of time.

 

As the light in the basement waned, Spike finally began to stir on the cot. “Bloody hell, Bit,” he muttered. “I said four hours.”

 

“If we’re going to get out of town, you’ve got to be rested,” she shot back. “You’re the one who can drive, remember?”

 

“’Course I remember,” he snarled, rising from the cot and stretching the kinks out of his spine. The floorboards above them creaked, and they both froze.

 

“Spike?” Dawn breathed.

 

He pointed. “You hide, and you stay quiet, hear me?”

 

She nodded frantically, and scurried over to a steamer truck that had been wedged into the corner. When Dawn knelt down inside and pulled the lid closed, Buffy realized that Spike had found a way to create a hiding place in the basement for just such a situation as this one.

 

Spike grabbed the ax that had been propped on the stairs, and began to head up to the main level, Buffy close behind him.

 

He put his eye to the crack in the door, and Buffy stood behind him, just able to make out the shapes of four Hellions that had broken into the house, intent on one last looting session. She knew that Spike was weighing his options. He could stay quiet and hope they didn’t go down into the basement, or he could take the fight to them.

 

When his face shifted, yellow eyes glowing in the dim light, Buffy knew he’d made his choice.

 

Spike burst through the door with a furious howl, his ax biting deeply into the nearest demon’s neck, the blade sticking in the bone. When he couldn’t pull the weapon out after the first try, he abandoned it, turning to take on the other three demons with nothing but his fists and fangs.

 

Buffy had fought against Spike before, and she’d fought at his side, but she’d never had the chance to simply watch him. He moved with a wild grace, and even though he took a lot of punishment, he didn’t stop.

 

She waited, her heart pounding, silently cheering him on. When he killed the last demon with a well-placed butcher knife, Buffy let out the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. Spike collapsed, his back to the cabinets, blood dripping off his fingers onto the floor and soaking his shirt. One of the demons had sliced his side, and another had cut through the duster into his right arm. His right eye was swelling, and his lip was split.

 

Buffy was struck by the desire to comfort him, to patch him up.

 

He closed his eyes, pain etching deep lines around his eyes and mouth. After a long moment, he struggled to his feet. “Dawn!” he called. “We’ve got to move!”

 

She came barreling up the stairs a few moments later, taking in the carnage with one glance. “You’re hurt.”

 

“I’ll live,” he replied. “Throw a bag together. You’ve got two minutes.”

 

Dawn stared at him, then nodded jerkily.

 

Spike rifled through the drawer where her mom had always kept the car keys, and Buffy wondered how he’d known where to find them. He made his slow way out to the car, pausing to lean heavily against the hood before climbing behind the wheel.

 

Dawn came flying into the garage, breathless, pausing only to toss a bag in the back seat. She clambered into the passenger seat, and Buffy realized that she was about to be left behind. Not knowing if it would work, she closed her eyes, willing herself in the back of the vehicle.

 

When she opened her eyes, she was staring at the back of Spike’s seat. “Don’t open the door just yet, Bit,” he cautioned. “We want to be ready to gun it.”

 

Dawn nodded. “Okay.”

 

“I want you to watch me carefully. I’ll get us out of Sunnydale, but you’ll probably have to finish the drive into L.A.”

 

Her eyes went wide. “What? I can’t drive!”

 

“You’ve gotta learn sometime.”

 

She swallowed noisily. “No, Spike, you’re going to be fine. I can’t drive.”

 

Buffy couldn’t disagree. She didn’t like the thought of her younger sister behind the wheel of a car for the first time, in the kind of traffic Los Angeles boasted.

 

“I’ll be fine after about six pints of the good stuff, and I’m fine enough to get us out of town, but I don’t think I’m going to make it the whole way. Be better to have you awake and driving, than for me to pass out behind the wheel.”

 

Dawn let out a sound that was almost a sob. “Okay.”

 

“We’ll be fine,” Spike promised. “Ready?”

 

She nodded, then pressed the button to open the garage door as Spike started the engine.

 

As soon as the door was up, Spike gunned the engine, backing out with a squeal of tires. There was a thump as he hit something, but he didn’t bother stopping to see what it was. As he put the car into drive and roared off down the street, Buffy peered out the window to see the body of another Hellion lying in the driveway.

 

She held onto the door as he drove full speed through the streets of Sunnydale. Dawn was hanging onto the dash, her face set in grim lines; Buffy realized that her sister looked older, her eyes nearly ancient.

 

“We’ll take the back roads,” Spike said calmly. “Once we’re far enough away, I’m going to pull over and let you drive. I want to be awake for the first part.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“It’s an automatic, so it’s a piece of cake,” he continued. “When you get close enough to L.A., find a phone. Last I heard, Peaches had his name in the phone book under Angel Investigations. You give him a call, and he’ll come get you.”

 

“What about you?”

 

“I don’t matter.”

 

“You do to me.”

 

There was a long silence, then Spike sighed. “We’re not on the best terms, Bit.”

 

“I don’t care,” she said, her jaw set. “I’m not going anywhere without you. You’re all I have left.”

 

“Right.”

 

The night closed in around them, and silence fell, save for the occasional driving tip from Spike. After about an hour, he pulled over to the side of the road. “Come on.”

 

Dawn got out, heading to the driver’s side as Spike slid across. Buffy realized that he looked worse than she’d ever seen him, worse than when he’d come to her for help. He grunted as he settled himself into the seat and buckled the seatbelt.

 

Dawn’s face was pale as she climbed behind the wheel. She put her seatbelt on and gripped the wheel. “Now what?”

 

“Put your right foot on the brake,” Spike instructed. “That’s the one on the left. Now, put it into drive.” He reached over with a wince and guided her hand on the gearshift.

 

Dawn followed his directions, as Spike explained how to get back on the country road. There was no traffic this time of the night, and Buffy knew that he’d had the right idea. She also knew that when this was over, she was going to talk to him about giving Dawn driving lessons. Her sister was old enough to get her learner’s permit, and Spike was doing really well with her.

 

His voice faded a bit as he gave her directions into L.A. “Got that, Bit?” he asked hoarsely. “Can’t—”

 

“It’s okay, Spike,” Dawn said quietly. “I’ve got it.”

 

When he didn’t respond, Buffy knew he was unconscious. Dawn’s knuckles were white as she gripped the steering wheel tightly. “We’re in this together,” she whispered. “No matter what.”

 

~~~~~

 

Her cheeks were wet with tears, and Buffy blinked. Instead of the interior of her mother’s car, she saw Casamir’s lined face. “What—what did I just see?”

 

“The answer to your question,” he replied softly. “What did you ask?”

 

“What would have happened if Willow hadn’t brought me back,” Buffy said wonderingly. “If she hadn’t, the Hellions would have taken over Sunnydale, and—”

 

She broke off. Her friends, the ones who had ripped her out of heaven, would have been killed. Dawn would have been left alone with Spike, and the vampire would have been protected her, just as he’d told her he would. He would have kept his promise, but at what cost?

 

“Until the end of the world,” he’d said. Buffy hadn’t realized what that had meant.

 

Buffy stared down at the cloth-covered table, wondering if she’d done her sister and Spike a disservice by telling Dawn to stay away from him, and by insisting that Spike not come around the house so much.

 

“Would that have really happened?”  


“I can only show you a possible future,” he responded. “Whether it would have happened exactly as you saw, no one can say.”

 

Buffy closed her eyes, wondering what would have happened after the vision had ended. Would Dawn and Spike have made it safely to L.A.? Would Angel have helped them?

 

She hadn’t wanted to be here, had thought that maybe coming back had only made things worse. Buffy knew better now.

 

~~~~~

 

“Spike?”

 

He recognized the voice, but he wasn’t sure what she was doing there, in his crypt, this time of the day. It was early morning; she shouldn’t be in the cemetery at any time, and she shouldn’t be there now. If Buffy found out, she’d kill them both.

 

“Spike? Wake up. Buffy’s still not home.”

 

He opened his eyes and realized that he wasn’t in his crypt. He was lying on the couch in Buffy’s living room. He had stayed because Dawn had asked him to until her sister got home.

 

Only she’d never come home.

 

“Where’s the witch?” he muttered, his brain fuzzy from sleep. Spike had dropped off with the rising of the sun, although he hadn’t planned on it.

 

“She didn’t come home either.” Dawn’s eyes were large and worried. “I don’t know what to do.”

 

That got him moving. “Can you make coffee?” When she nodded, he said, “Then go make a pot, because I’m gonna need it.”

 

It wasn’t the complete truth. Coffee didn’t do much for him, but getting it ready would give the girl something to busy herself with, and it would give Spike time to wake up.

 

He had no idea what he was supposed to do with her. Spike would stay, of course, until he was sure she didn’t need him, but he couldn’t help but wonder where Buffy was. What if something had happened to her out on patrol? What if she’d let her death wish get the best of her?

 

What if he lost her again?

 

What if he’d already lost her?

 

He let out a bitter laugh. Who was he kidding? He’d never had her, and he never would.

 

Dawn came back into the living room and silently handed him a mug full of hot liquid. It only took a moment for Spike to realize that it wasn’t the coffee he’d asked for. “Where’d you get the blood, Bit?”

 

“We had an extra in the freezer,” she replied. “There’s more coffee if you want some after.”

 

“Ta.” He drank slowly, appreciatively.

 

“Are you going to stay?”

 

“Yeah.” Spike had no idea what else he was supposed to do, at least until Red came home. He certainly couldn’t go out looking for Buffy while the sun was up. “Maybe you should call Harris.”

 

“And tell him what? He would just freak out.” Dawn said. “Besides, he and Anya are busy planning the wedding. They don’t care about me.”

 

“I doubt that’s true.”

 

“How do you know?” she asked. “It’s not like you’ve been around.”

 

“Bit—we talked about this.”

 

“Sorry.” Dawn sighed. “It’s just that Willow’s all crazy-making with the magic, and Tara’s gone, and the others are busy. And Buffy…”

 

“Isn’t herself,” Spike finished for her. He closed his eyes wearily; he wasn’t cut out for this shit. It had been hard enough to deal with things when Buffy had been dead, but now that she was back, things were confusing again. Really, really confusing.

 

She looked over at him. “You could go back to bed if you wanted.”

 

He shook his head. “Won’t be able to sleep down here.”

 

“You could use my bed.” She sounded hesitant, as though she were crossing some invisible line. “Mom put one of those room-darkening shades up for me before—before she died.”

 

Spike nodded slowly. If he was going to end up looking for the Slayer, it would be a smart idea to get some rest. “Wake me up when she gets back, yeah?”

 

Dawn nodded. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she appreciated his faith. It had nothing to do with faith, though; he wouldn’t allow himself to consider the alternatives.

 

~~~~~

 

The coals in the small bowl were still glowing red, and Casamir added a few more wood shavings. “Are you ready?”

 

Buffy wasn’t at all sure she was, but she had two more questions written down, and she didn’t think she could quit now, not without having all the answers.

 

Without being prompted, she dropped the second slip into the gentle flames, watching as the words glowed red once again.

 

“ _What if I hadn’t jumped?_ ”

 

**Part III: Loss**

 

She was kneeling on the grass in a cemetery, and Buffy knew whose tombstone was in front of her before she read the words. She was herself, but different now.

 

She was the Buffy who hadn’t jumped, the Slayer who hadn’t been able to save her sister.

 

She reached out a hand to trace the letters one at a time. Buffy wondered who had chosen the epitaph, because it read simply, “Dawn Summers. Beloved daughter, sister, friend.” She would have found something else to say, something more profound.

 

Or she would have, if she hadn’t been weighed down by a grief so heavy she wasn’t sure she could stand.

 

“Come on, luv, I’ll walk you home.”

 

“I need to patrol.”

 

“I can do it. You should go home and get some sleep. It’s been days.”

 

“How would you know?”

 

“Do you really want to know the answer to that?”

 

“Probably not.”

 

She felt his strong hand touch her shoulder hesitantly. The touch reminded her of the night they’d sat on her porch, after he’d told her of his past in the Bronze. “You can’t stay here forever, luv.”

 

“I know.” After a moment, she allowed him to help her rise. Spike was right; she couldn’t spend another night at the gravesite. “But I should patrol.”

 

He sighed. “Take a night off, Buffy. You deserve it.”

 

It was only because she was almost too tired to stand that she started for home. Spike fell into step beside her, but she didn’t have the energy to protest. In truth, she appreciated the company.

 

They walked in silence; words seemed superfluous. After all, words wouldn’t bring her sister back.

 

Spike walked her right up to the front door. “Why don’t you let me take patrol for you tomorrow night, Slayer? Or for as long as you want.”

 

“Everybody’s treating me like I’m fragile,” Buffy said. “I’m still the Slayer.”

 

“We know you are, pet, but it’s natural to take some time to grieve.” He ducked his head, staring at the toes of his boots. “Just—let me know, yeah?”

 

“If you could patrol for a couple of days, that would be nice.” The thought of being able to abdicate responsibility for a while was too tempting to pass up.

 

He smiled at her, a hint of shyness in his expression. “Whatever you need, luv.”

 

Buffy knew she could take his words at face value.

 

~~~~~

 

Somehow, she managed to sleep that night, her exhaustion finally catching up to her. Buffy had spent the last two weeks keeping busy, trying not to think about the fact that Dawn was dead, gone forever. Trying to block out all memories of watching her younger sister jump from the tower.

 

It should have been her, but Dawn had been too fast, too insistent. Buffy had hesitated a moment too long.

 

In the end, it had been Dawn who had been the bravest of the Summers girls.

 

She slept late that first day, the silence of the house a heavy weight on her chest. It was easier to roll over, pull the pillow over her head, and go back to sleep. There had been no dreams that night, and it gave her hope that sleep might provide a respite from grief after all.

 

Without patrol, there was no reason to get out of bed. Her friends were largely leaving her alone; they had no idea what to say to offer comfort. They had all failed Dawn; Buffy wasn’t alone in that, even though her profound grief had isolated her.

 

When her mom had died, Buffy had at least had Dawn. They had been in it together. Now, she had no one.

 

On the second day, Willow came to see her, to try to cajole her out of bed and into eating. “I can’t,” she replied.

 

“Buffy, we’re worried about you,” Willow said softly. “You need to get up, do something. Dawn wouldn’t want this.”

 

“I’ll try.” It was the only promise she could make, and she resented the implication that she was failing Dawn. Didn’t Willow understand that she’d already failed, that there was nothing she could do to make up for it?

 

On the third day, Buffy rose because Spike would be expecting her for patrol, and her friends wouldn’t leave her alone for much longer. When Dawn had been taken, and she’d retreated inside herself, Willow had come and dragged her back out again. This was no different, except that there was no escape, not even inside her head.

 

They didn’t understand, and so they would keep pushing until she was back to normal. Or at least the pretense of normal.

 

“We don’t have to do this,” Spike said as they set out from the house. “If you need more time—”

 

“They’re going to start asking questions soon,” Buffy replied softly. “I don’t have a choice.”

 

“There’s always a choice,” he shot back. “Tell them to sod off if they try to interfere. They’re not the ones who—” Spike stopped himself before he completed the sentence.

 

“They’re not the ones who lost their mom and their sister?”

 

“Yeah, that.”

 

“Don’t worry about me,” Buffy said. “I’m used to going on when the going gets tough. The Slayer is always alone, right?”

 

“You’re not alone, Buffy,” Spike insisted.

 

“Maybe,” she said dubiously.

 

Patrolling with Spike was the only time she felt relatively normal, the only time her grief seemed to ebb. He didn’t try to make conversation, or press her to talk about her feelings, or tell her that everything was going to be okay. The most he ever did was to tell her to do whatever the hell made her feel better.

 

Buffy appreciated that.

 

“You need to think about what you’re going to do with your life,” Giles told her about halfway through the summer. “I know it’s difficult, but—”

 

“What am I supposed to do, Giles?” Buffy asked. “We both know that I’m not going to survive many more apocalypses. There’s no point in going to school.”

 

“Buffy—”

 

“Dawn should be the one going to school this fall,” she whispered. “If I hadn’t failed her—”

 

“You did the best you could, Buffy,” he insisted. “Once the portal was opened, there wasn’t any other choice.”

 

Buffy looked him straight in the eyes. “Yes, there was. I should have been the one to jump.”

 

He looked away, his expression grim. “The world needs the Slayer.”

 

“I don’t know if I care about the world anymore,” Buffy said bluntly, walking away from him and going up to her room, slamming the door behind her. She still hadn’t forgiven Giles for telling her that she might have to kill Dawn.

 

If he hadn’t made the suggestion, maybe she wouldn’t have hesitated before jumping. Maybe Dawn would still be alive. It might be wrong to blame him, but she couldn’t quite help it.

 

The others had also told her that she needed to move on, and make plans for the future, although they used different words. Willow told her that Dawn had been incredibly brave; Xander made lame jokes about anything and everything in an attempt to get her to laugh. Tara was gently understanding, much as she’d been after Joyce’s death, and Anya was awkward and uncharacteristically silent.

 

She wanted to be grateful that they were trying; Buffy knew they were doing the best they knew how. It didn’t help her feel better, though, so it was easier to avoid their company.

 

Buffy didn’t think that the fog of her grief would ever lift, and there were nights when she wondered what would happen if she just stopped fighting. If Spike hadn’t been there, she probably would have, but Buffy didn’t want him to see her quitting. She wondered if he knew, or if he suspected.

 

When he showed up at her door, a few nights after Giles had confronted her about her apathy, Buffy had her answer.

 

“Let’s go, Slayer. We’ll skip patrol tonight.” He sounded determined, and Buffy knew he had something planned. The worry radiated off him.

 

“I’m fine, Spike.” The last thing she needed was for him to start treating her as though she was fragile.

 

“No, you’re not,” he said bluntly. “You’re angry, and you’re grieving, but that’s not the point. Let’s go.”

 

“Where are we going?” she asked, not much caring.

 

His grip was gentle, but firm, when he grasped her arm. “A place I know of.”

 

“This isn’t a date, is it?” she asked suspiciously, not knowing whether she wanted it to be or not.

 

Spike snorted. “Please, Slayer. I think I learned my lesson last time. What you need is something to take your mind off matters, and I’ve got just the thing.”

 

Buffy frowned, her curiosity piqued. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt excitement at the prospect of a mystery. “What kind of thing? Spike—”

 

“Do you trust me?”

 

“Yes.” She said it without hesitation, and knew it was true.

 

His face softened, and his blue eyes lit up. “Alright, then. It’s a surprise.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Spike drove. Buffy noticed that he’d cleaned his car, and her suspicions as to whether or not this was supposed to be a date were rekindled. She decided that it was one of those things she didn’t care about. Since Spike was the only person she could stand to be around right now, she was hardly going to revoke his invitation.

 

Although, when she realized they had parked outside the demon bar along the highway, Buffy seriously considered it. “What the hell are we doing here?”

 

He gave her an oddly satisfied smile. “We’re here so you can take out your anger on a few unsuspecting demons.”

 

“I patrol every night, Spike,” Buffy snapped. “I don’t think I need a fight to feel better.”

 

“This isn’t you going out and doing your duty, Buffy,” he replied, his tone low and sincere. “This is about taking the fight to them.” The look he gave her was intense, riveting her, forcing her to actually _hear_ what he was saying. “Demons took your sister, Slayer. It wasn’t your fault; it was theirs. This is about payback.”

 

Spike’s argument seemed to light a fire nearly extinguished by grief, and his words made a certain kind of sense. Maybe killing a bunch of demons wouldn’t bring her sister back—but it might make her feel a little better.

 

He smiled as he realized that his arguments had hit home. “Here.” He handed her a stake and a long dagger.

 

“What are you bringing?”

 

“I’ve got an ax,” he replied, reaching into the back seat. “You ready?”

 

She followed him into the bar, but only because Spike knew the layout and she didn’t. If they were going to take out as many as possible, they would have to do it right. At least, that was the reason that Spike gave her. Buffy had a feeling that he wanted to protect her, but if his plan would result in more dead demons, she’d follow his lead.

 

He barged through the front doors of the bar with a flourish that made Buffy envious. She thought it might be the coat, because nothing else would explain it.

 

When she stepped up next to him, silence soon fell over the bar and its patrons.

 

“Listen up,” Spike called. “I think you lot know the Slayer. We’re here to clean house, so if you don’t want to fight, now’s the time to leave.”

 

There was a long silence when no one inside the bar moved, then a large, slime-covered demon stepped out of the crowd. “We’re not frightened of the Slayer and her pet vampire,” it replied in a muffled hiss.

 

Buffy saw a few demons begin to inch their way to the door, not wanting to draw attention to their retreat, but not wanting to stay either. She decided to let them go; she and Spike had enough to keep them busy.

 

She looked over at Spike. “Hear that? He’s not afraid of me.”

 

Spike smirked, his expression positively evil. “Guess we’ll just have to teach him a lesson about what the Slayer’s capable of.”

 

They both leapt into action, Buffy feeling secure in the knowledge that Spike was by her side, her muscles singing with the exertion. She ducked a blow aimed at her head and gutted another demon with one slice of her knife, whirling low to the ground to hamstring a second that was about to hit Spike from behind.

 

Spike vaulted over her head to get to a demon who was about to deliver a blow to the back of her neck. His momentum took them both to the ground where he snapped its neck.

 

Buffy lost herself in the battle, moving on instinct alone, meting out death to all who got in her way. She knew nothing other than the feel of the wooden stake in her hand, the taste of ash on her lips, and the sounds of fists and feet hitting flesh.

 

They’d nearly emptied out the bar when she heard Spike’s harsh shout behind her and turned, not quite in time to avoid the heavy fist that slammed into her temple. When she regained consciousness, she was in the passenger seat of Spike’s car.

 

“What happened?”

 

“You got hit. He’s dead.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“How’s your head?”

 

“It hurts, but I’ll live.”

 

“You want to go home?”

 

“Not really,” Buffy replied.

 

He nodded. “Right, then.”

 

She put her throbbing head back against the seat and let him drive, idly wondering what it would be like to leave Sunnydale behind her. She’d tried it before; Buffy had tried not to be the Slayer after she’d sent Angel to hell. She knew that wasn’t possible, but the idea was still tempting.

 

Maybe she didn’t want to leave being the Slayer behind, but she wouldn’t mind leaving her grief and her failure, if it had been possible.

 

She already knew that it wasn’t.

 

“Here we are.”

 

Spike had pulled up outside a roadside diner Buffy didn’t recognize. She had no idea where they were, but she that didn’t matter. When she asked, it was more out of habit than a real desire to know. “Where’s here?”

 

“About halfway to Los Angeles,” he replied. “Up to you whether or not we turn around after we eat.”

 

Buffy gave him a look. “Are you suggesting we run away together?”

 

He raised an eyebrow. “Hey, I’m just the driver, pet.”

 

She shook her head. “No, you’re not.” Looking through the paint-smeared windshield to the diner, she realized that she was hungry for the first time in days. “Is this place any good?”

 

“Let’s find out,” he suggested.

 

They sat across from one another at one of the scarred, gray Formica tables away from the window, to avoid having to explain Spike’s lack of reflection. Buffy wondered how she looked; after their fight in the bar, she couldn’t be pretty, but their waitress hadn’t batted an eyelash. The older woman had simply brought their menus and told them to wave her over when they were ready.

 

“I don’t have any cash on me,” Buffy admitted softly.

 

“Not to worry, Summers. I’ve got it covered. Least I can do after…” Spike trailed off, and Buffy saw the grief in his eyes— _really_ saw it for the first time, and knew it went as deep as hers.

 

“You miss her,” she observed.

 

He nodded shortly. “I promised I’d keep her safe for you, and I didn’t. Every time I close my eyes, I see some way I could have changed things, been smarter, or faster, or stronger.”

 

“I know.” She did; she knew what he saw every night because she saw the same thing played out in her own head. “What’s your favorite?”

 

“Where I rip Doc limb from limb, instead of just running him through,” Spike admitted. “I should have known the bastard would be harder to kill.” He hesitated for just a moment before asking, “What about you?”

 

“Where I’m the one who jumps instead of Dawn.” It was a confession she couldn’t have made to anyone else because no one else would have understood, not the way Spike did.

 

He swallowed. “Yeah. I figured that.”

 

“I wasn’t fast enough,” Buffy admitted. “I stood there, and I knew that one of us was going to die, and I hesitated.”

 

“It’s natural.”

 

“Maybe.” She could give herself that much grace, at least. “But Dawn didn’t, and I’m the Slayer.”

 

“You’re also human.” His voice was so gentle, and his eyes—Buffy could get lost in his eyes.

 

“Tonight was good,” she admitted.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“It was what I needed.” She looked at her ragged nails thoughtfully. It had been a while since taking care of her appearance had been important. “We could have lost.”

 

“There’s nothing like facing death to make you feel alive.” The steadiness of Spike’s words spoke of personal knowledge, and Buffy suddenly understood that he had a death wish, just like the Slayers he’d hunted and killed. He risked it all to feel alive, just as she had tonight, and somehow he had understood. A vampire understood what it meant to be the Slayer better than her Watcher, better than her friends.

 

It struck her then, the incongruity of the situation. She was sitting in a diner, miles from home, with a vampire who had once made it his life’s mission to kill girls like her, and he was commiserating with her over her sister’s death.

 

He was grieving, just as she was, and if Spike could grieve, didn’t that have to mean that he could love?

 

And if he could love—

 

She shied away from that thought, but she relaxed a bit more. It was bizarre, but for the first time since Dawn had died, she didn’t feel quite so alone.

 

“Would you tell me something?” Buffy asked.

 

“Whatever you want,” he promised rashly.

 

“What were you really like when you were human?”

 

The surprise on his face told her that Spike hadn’t expected that question, and he chuckled ruefully. “Walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

 

“I take it you weren’t really a bad ass then?”

 

He hesitated, then said, “This doesn’t go anywhere, right?”

 

Buffy met his eyes and nodded. “This is just between you and me.”

 

Somehow, she thought, it always had been.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy laid her head down on the cloth-covered table and gave into her tears. She could still feel the heavy grief that losing Dawn had brought, even though she knew that her sister was safe with Janice, or safe at home.

 

Her sister had been a burden, until she’d known what losing her would mean.

 

“Here,” Casamir said gently, handing her a handkerchief.

 

Buffy wiped her face, blowing her nose noisily into the soft cloth. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Sometimes what might have happened is more frightening that what has happened.”

 

“You can say that again,” Buffy muttered. “I thought that being brought back was the worst thing that could happen to me, but—” She broke off. Maybe she’d needed to come back, and maybe she’d needed to die.

 

But that didn’t tell her what she should do with her future.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike awoke to Red’s raised voice. “Spike is in your _bed_?”

 

“He stayed with me last night, and he was tired,” Dawn shot back. “Besides, the sun was up, so it wasn’t like he could go back to his crypt.”

 

“You could have let him sleep on the couch,” Willow replied.

 

“He wouldn’t have needed to stay if you or Buffy had actually come home.” Spike could just picture Dawn’s face as she said that, the stubborn tilt of her chin and accompanying hair toss.

 

“I got held up.” Spike could hear the defensiveness in her tone. “Amy and I—”

 

“Amy?” Dawn asked. “You de-ratted her?”

 

“Yeah, and it was a good thing,” Willow insisted. “I’ve been trying to get her back for a long time.”

 

“And then you went out all night?”

 

“I needed to blow off some steam.”

 

“Fine. When are you going to look for Buffy?” Dawn asked. “Spike can’t do it until after dark.”

 

“I’m sure she’s fine, Dawnie,” Willow said, trying to placate the teen. “I have to go by the Magic Box to get supplies for a locator spell anyway. I’ll let everyone else know that we need to look for her, and we’ll find her in no time.”

 

“I guess I’ll stay here just in case she comes home then.”

 

Spike heard the front door close and sighed. It sounded as though Red had decided he had no business being around Dawn or anyone else who qualified as civilized company. Dawn thundered up the stairs, and her bedroom door eased open slowly. “Spike?”

 

“I’m awake, Bit.” He sat up slowly. “Guess Red didn’t take too kindly to me being here.”

 

“She’s being stupid,” Dawn announced. “It’s like she doesn’t even care that Buffy’s missing.”

 

“She’s too caught up in her own world to see past the end of her nose.” He folded his hands behind his head. “I’ll go look for her as soon as the sun goes down. Maybe you ought to call the good witch to stay with you tonight. Don’t know what we’ll run into.”

 

Dawn sat down on the bed. “Yeah, okay. You _will_ find her, right?”

 

“Of course I will,” he promised recklessly. Spike knew he had to find her; there was no other option.

 

“I should let you sleep,” she said.

 

Spike shrugged. “I’m awake now. You want to watch a movie?”

 

She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Yeah.”

 

At least he could get through to one of the Summers girls.

 

~~~~~

 

It was the last question, and probably the most important one, because it had to do with her future, rather than some nonexistent past.

 

Casamir stopped her hand. “Are you ready for this answer?”

 

Buffy met his eyes. “Do you know something I don’t?”

 

“The future is open, but only if you’re willing to change course.”

 

She nodded slowly. “I’m ready.”

 

He pulled back, and Buffy dropped the last slip of paper on the coals, breathing in the now-familiar aromatic smoke.

 

The hardest question she’d ever asked glowed red in the dim light.

 

“ _What if I date Spike?_ ”

 

**Part IV: Redemption**

 

She was drying the dishes, listening to the sounds of conversation and laughter from the other room. It was New Year’s Eve, but she wasn’t in the mood to celebrate. Buffy knew this feeling all too well; it was the same apathy she’d been living with since her resurrection.

 

Buffy stared out the kitchen window into the darkness. She could hear Dawn giggling in the other room, and she was grateful that her sister could relax and just be a teenager for once. Although the holidays hadn’t been very merry this year, with her mom gone, and Willow’s breakup with Tara, everyone was trying. For the moment, they were succeeding.

 

“Why don’t you let me finish that?” Spike suggested, pulling the dishtowel out of her hands.

 

Buffy could smell cigarettes, and she knew he’d been out on the back porch. “I’m pretty much done.”

 

“You alright? You’ve been quiet tonight.”

 

“Just—missing Mom.”

 

Buffy let him pull her into an embrace. Spike always seemed to be touching her, ever since she’d agreed to give the relationship with him a try. To her surprise, he seemed to be interested in contact more than anything else, although he’d made no secret of his desire for her.

 

“Wish I could make it easier on you, luv.”

 

“You are,” she said, the words coming out before she’d thought about it.

 

His embrace tightened. “Why don’t you go join them?” he suggested.

 

Buffy looked up at him. “What about you?”

 

He smiled ruefully. “Don’t think you need the hassle, Buffy. But thanks for the invitation.”

 

She appreciated his concern and the fact that he was trying to put her needs before his own, but the whole point of being open about their relationship was not sneaking around. “Come on. They’ll deal.”

 

The room fell silent as they entered. Xander’s expression was immediately hostile, although he managed to keep his mouth shut. Willow just looked uncomfortable, and Anya didn’t seem to care one way or another.

 

Dawn, on the other hand, grinned broadly. “Where have you guys been?”

 

“Cleaning up,” Buffy said. She noticed that no one protested, or suggested that they could have helped, and she felt a bolt of resentment pass through her. There was nowhere to sit down with Spike; Willow, Xander, and Anya were on the couch, and Dawn had taken the easy chair.

 

As if just realizing the problem, Xander moved over on the couch, opening a narrow section of cushion for her. “Sit down, Buffy.”

 

She glanced at Spike over her shoulder. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and he merely raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting to see what she’d do.

 

There had been a lot of reasons that Buffy had hesitated to embark on a relationship with another vampire. One had been the fear that he would go bad, and she’d be forced to kill her boyfriend—again—or that she would have to watch him torture and kill people she cared about.

 

On the other hand, the three perfectly normal guys she’d dated had found other ways to break her heart, so it wasn’t like that was the only way things could go horribly wrong.

 

The second reason had been her friends. She’d been able to predict their reactions pretty accurately. Xander had been apoplectic, Willow had been sure that it was just a reaction to being back from the dead and she’d come to her senses eventually, and Dawn had been ecstatic. Anya didn’t care, and Tara had been supportive—when she’d seen Tara, which hadn’t been often recently.

 

She had the feeling that the only reason Xander and Willow had eventually come to a grudging acceptance was because their guilt held them in check.

 

It was a constant tightrope walk—how to balance her feelings for Spike with her loyalty to her friends. Buffy sometimes felt as though she was being pulled in two.

 

Xander’s invitation was clearly an attempt to move her further from Spike and closer to her friends, and that’s not what she wanted.

 

“I’m good,” she said, leaning up against Spike. Buffy felt him stiffen, then relax, his arms uncrossing and one hand coming to rest unobtrusively on her waist.

 

An awkward silence fell, and Buffy knew that things wouldn’t be the same again. She would never share the same closeness with her friends, never feel quite as secure, never quite lose that edge of apathy that haunted her, knowing what waited for her after death.

 

The question had become whether or not she could find something worth living for.

 

“We should get going,” Xander announced after a while. “I’ve got work in the morning.”

 

“And we haven’t yet had our celebratory orgasms,” Anya agreed.

 

After they’d left, Willow announced that she was going up to her room, and Dawn began yawning rather obviously, wanting to clear the way for Buffy and Spike.

 

And then they were alone.

 

Buffy sat on the couch wearily. “Well, that was fun.”

 

“I’m sorry I ruined the evening.” Spike sat down next to her, stretching out with an arm behind her head along the back of the couch.

 

“You didn’t,” Buffy replied, tilting her head back, initiating contact.

 

His fingers tangled in her hair before his strong hand found the tense muscles in her neck. “How do you want to ring in the New Year?”

 

“I don’t know.” She closed her eyes, letting his touch soothe. “You have magic fingers.”

 

“Your neck isn’t the only part of you they could work magic on.”

 

She hesitated, then remembered that Dawn was in bed for the night, and Willow was home. If she left, and went to Spike’s crypt for the night, she wouldn’t be shirking her duties. She could steal a few hours and just be Buffy—not the older sister, not the best friend, and not the Slayer.

 

“Okay.” She stood so quickly that Spike’s hand caught in her hair, causing her to wince in pain.

 

“Sorry.” Spike apologized immediately, rising to his feet. “Where are we going?”

 

Buffy smiled. “Your place. We don’t have to be quiet there.”

 

His eyes lit up. “Yeah, alright.”

 

They walked in an easy companionship that Buffy would have thought impossible before her death. Maybe she had come back wrong, had left something of herself behind. It wouldn’t surprise her.

 

Spike took her hand as he led her into the darkened crypt. “Wait here,” he said. “I’ll get the lights.”

 

He dropped through the trap door, and Buffy could soon see the dim glow of candlelight. She climbed down slowly, into Spike’s waiting arms. His mouth was on hers immediately, his clever fingers undoing buttons and snaps and zippers. Buffy pushed his duster off his shoulders onto the floor, grabbing the hem of his t-shirt and breaking off the kiss long enough to pull it over his head.

 

His mouth closed over hers once again, then he began to trail cool kisses down her neck, following the line of her collarbone. “Pants off,” Buffy managed to gasp out.

 

Spike grinned against her skin. “Have to take my boots off first,” he murmured.

 

“Okay.” She pulled back, keeping her eyes on him as she unlaced her shoes and shimmied out of her pants. She’d always known he was hot, but she’d never understood just how beautiful he was until they’d made love for the first time.

 

Spike got out of his boots and jeans as quickly as she did, his eyes fixed on her. “You’re so beautiful,” he said reverently.

 

“So are you.”

 

“I always knew you wanted me for my body,” he teased.

 

Buffy smirked. “And your magic fingers. Don’t forget those.”

 

“At your service.”

 

It was desperate and hungry and nearly out of control; cool skin to warm, alabaster to golden, they engaged in a different kind of dance. She lost herself in his embrace, feeling alive, anchored, real. This was what her friends didn’t understand. With Spike, she felt whole again, and she could forget what she had lost.

 

His fingers and lips and tongue worked their magic. Buffy gripped his shoulders tightly as she went over the edge, feeling Spike collapse on top of her shortly afterwards, his forehead resting against her shoulder.

 

“I love you,” he whispered.

 

Buffy wished she could give him more and tightened her grip. “I know.”

 

Spike didn’t even sigh, just rolled over, bringing her with him, spooned against his side. “When do you have to go back?”

 

“I don’t know. Maybe not until morning. Dawn and Willow will probably sleep in.”

 

“Then stay.”

 

“Okay.” Buffy hesitated. “I have to ask you for a favor.”

 

“Anything. You know that.”

 

“The social worker’s coming next week to do a home visit.” She moved so she could see his face. “She asked if I was dating anybody, and I said I was. She wants to meet you.”

 

Spike’s eyebrows went up. “You told her about us?”

 

“She asked, and I didn’t want to lie. What happens if she finds out, and then she wants to know why I lied, and—” She stopped herself, realizing that she was babbling. “This is important, Spike. If she doesn’t think I can take care of Dawn, they’ll put her in foster care.”

 

“No, they won’t,” he insisted. “We could take her away, leave town. We’d just have to stay away until she turns 18.”

 

“Spike—”

 

“I can get money. I can take care of you and the Bit,” he promised with the same kind of recklessness that had led him to seek out three Slayers, and love the last.

 

If she was completely honest with herself, Buffy loved him just a little bit for that.

 

“I know you can,” she replied, touching his cheek. “But I’d like to try it this way first.”

 

He nodded. “What do you need from me?”

 

“Can you look—dress—”

 

He looked amused. “Normal?”

 

“Please? It’s important.”

 

“I told you anything, luv,” he replied. “I meant it. If I have to wear a bloody monkey suit, I’d do it for you an’ Dawn.”

 

God help her, she knew he was telling the truth. “Yeah.”

 

“Name the day and time, and I’ll be there,” he promised, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

 

Buffy settled in next to him, putting an arm across his chest. “Thank you.”

 

“Any time, pet.”

 

“No, not for this.” She met his eyes. “For everything.”

 

~~~~~

 

He climbed through her bedroom window shortly before the sun rose to avoid being singed, then climbed into bed with her. “Hey.”

 

“Hey,” Buffy murmured sleepily. “Your clothes are hanging up in my closet.”

 

“Thanks for washing them.”

 

“I had to do laundry anyway,” she responded. “Wanna sleep for a while?”

 

Spike pulled her close. “Sure. Go back to sleep, luv.”

 

She dropped off immediately, content to be in his arms.

 

Buffy would have overslept if Spike hadn’t been there; she’d forgotten to set her alarm clock, but he’d stayed awake to watch her sleep, and woke both her and Dawn in time.

 

When Xander showed up to take Dawn to school, he wasn’t too pleased to see Spike there. Buffy gave him a warning look and then pushed them both out the door, with Willow close behind. “Have a good day, guys!”

 

“So, how do I look?” Spike asked from behind her.

 

She turned to look at him, her eyebrows going up. “Oh.”

 

Spike glanced down at himself. “Is it not okay?”

 

Buffy stepped forward and grabbed him by his blue button down shirt, pulling him in for a bruising kiss. “You have to wear those clothes more often.”

 

He blinked, looking a little stunned. “I wore this before, and that wasn’t the reaction I got.”

 

She frowned, trying to remember which occasion he was referring to, and colored slightly when she did. “The night you tried to come onto me in the Bronze. You had a different jacket, too.”

 

Spike shrugged self-consciously. “I was trying to impress you. Better late than never, I suppose.”

 

“Consider me impressed.” She gave him another quick kiss. “The social worker is going to be here any minute.”

 

“I’ll start the coffee.”

 

“Blood’s in the fridge,” she informed him. “I picked some up for you yesterday. If you’re quick, you can finish it before she gets here.”

 

Buffy made one more sweep of the living room, wanting to be sure that everything was ready for inspection. She had no idea what to expect from this woman, or how this meeting was going to go. When the doorbell rang, Buffy took a deep breath, and went to open the door.

 

“Doris Kroger, from Social Services,” the woman announced, showing her badge and stepping inside. She peered around curiously, brushing past Buffy to step into the living room.

 

Buffy had spent the previous day cleaning, having recruited Dawn to help. Her sister had whined about it, but she’d eventually given in. Buffy hoped she’d impressed upon the girl how important this whole thing was, but it was hard to say when Dawn was busy being a self-centered teen.

 

Not that Buffy had been much different at that age.

 

“Come in,” she said, forcing a smile. “Would you like coffee?”

 

Mrs. Kroger seemed to warm slightly. “Yes, thank you.”

 

“It’s not a problem,” Buffy replied, leading her into the kitchen. “Dawn already left for school.”

 

She hummed under her breath. “She’s been getting to school on time?”

 

“Yes, of course,” Buffy said. “I have a friend who gives her a ride every day on his way to work.” She hoped that was okay. Was it okay? It wasn’t like she could drive, and it seemed like the best way to make sure Dawn actually got to school.

 

Spike was rinsing out his mug when they entered the kitchen, and Buffy was grateful to see no sign of what he’d been drinking. “William, this is Mrs. Kroger. This is William, my boyfriend.”

 

There was no way she was going to call him “Spike,” in front of the social worker; that would be a sure way to shoot herself in the foot.

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Kroger,” Spike said, holding out his hand, and sounding a lot more like Giles. It was a surprise, and Buffy had to shut her mouth with a snap.

 

Mrs. Kroger, like many other women, couldn’t resist a good-looking man with a British accent. She sat down at the kitchen table for the interview, during which they lied a lot, but Buffy told herself that it was for a good cause. Spike managed to convince Mrs. Kroger that he was a successful freelance writer, and that he made enough money to support himself, Buffy, and Dawn.

 

For her part, Buffy managed to lie convincingly about having everything under control, which was a miracle in and of itself. The fact that she didn’t have to face the meeting alone, and that she felt prepared for it helped, too.

 

In the end, Mrs. Kroger pronounced herself satisfied—for the time being—and took herself off, leaving them with an empty house until Dawn returned home from school.

 

“You were great,” Buffy said honestly, as soon as the door had closed behind her. “Really.”

 

“I’m glad I could help,” Spike replied. “I wish I could make all your problems disappear, Buffy.”

 

She smiled. “I wish you could, too, but you could make me forget them for a while.”

 

“I think I can do that,” he said.

 

Buffy had every faith that he could.

 

~~~~~

 

She wasn’t crying when she found herself the small shop this time. It was strange, how she’d had so little hope regarding the possibility of dating Spike, and yet that had turned out to be the best of all possible worlds. “Is that really what will happen?”

 

Casamir shook his head. “No, not exactly. The future is malleable and can easily be changed. If you are asking if things could be as you saw, however, then the answer is yes. It is possible.”

 

Buffy closed her eyes, recalling the physical sensations of being with Spike, and the conviction that he had her back for everything. If it could be that good—

 

“Then what are you waiting for?” Casamir asked with a smile. “Only you know the answer to that question.”

 

“Are you a mind reader, too?” Buffy asked.

 

“I am many things.” He patted her hand in a fatherly way. “Now, it is late, and you must be tired. Why don’t you head on home?”

 

Buffy rose from the table. “Thank you, for everything. I feel—” She stopped, realizing that for the first time since her return, she felt as though she’d come back for a reason. If not for her death, Dawn would have died; if not for her resurrection, her friends would have been killed.

 

Knowing that, she could do what had to be done to make that possible future a reality. Things might not have been perfect, but she’d been happier than she’d ever thought possible.

 

Casamir merely smiled. “Sometimes it takes knowing what might have been to see what might be. Good luck, Miss Summers, and tell your William to come see me sometime. He may have questions he wants answered as well. I will be here when I am needed.”

 

Buffy let him usher her outside the shop, where she took a deep breath of the night air. She realized that she had no idea how long she’d been inside. It felt like forever and no time at all.

 

Casamir was right; she needed to go home, then she needed to find Spike. It was time to have that talk he’d been so anxious to have.

 

**Part V: Begin Again**

 

Spike had been looking for hours, since the sun had gone down, and there had been no sign of Buffy. He’d gone to all of her usual haunts, the cemeteries she patrolled, even his own crypt on the off chance she’d gone looking for him.

 

He’d even gone so far as to go to Willy’s bar, just in case she’d headed there.

 

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. “Where are you, Buffy?”

 

It was a rhetorical question, not meant to produce answers, but no sooner had the words left his mouth than he saw Buffy standing on the sidewalk not twenty feet away. When she turned in the direction of home, Spike broke into a jog. “Buffy!” She turned, smiling when she recognized him, which startled him. “Where have you been?”

 

She frowned. “I’ve only been gone for a few hours, Spike.”

 

He stared at her, wondering if she’d been hit on the head at some point. “Try twenty-four,” he suggested. “You’ve been gone since you went out to patrol last night. At least, I’m assuming that’s what you were doing.”

 

“I was patrolling,” she said. “And then I ran into this guy, Casamir, and he said he could answer my questions.” Buffy gestured over her shoulder. “So, I thought I’d try it.”

 

Spike looked behind her to the shuttered windows of a storefront that looked as though it had been unoccupied for a long time. “What shop?”

 

She turned, pointing impatiently. “That—” She stopped, her hand dropping to her side. “It was right there. I swear. I am not going insane.”

 

“Luv, we live on a Hellmouth,” Spike replied. “Don’t know what you saw, but I’m sure it was just like you said.”

 

Buffy shook her head. “But it was so real.”

 

“Had to have been,” Spike pointed out. “You were gone for so long. You okay?” He reached out to touch her shoulder; he wanted to be sure that she was all right, but he dropped his hand at the last moment. She’d hardly welcomed his advances.

 

She grimaced. “That would explain why I’m so hungry, I guess.”

 

“There’s leftover Chinese at your place,” Spike said. “I ordered it for Nibblet last night when you weren’t there.”

 

Buffy gave him an odd look. “You stayed with her last night, didn’t you?”

 

“Was supposed to just be until you got back,” he replied. “But then I fell asleep, and the Bit said I should stay there since the sun was up, and—”

 

She put a hand on his arm, startling him into silence. “It’s okay, Spike. I’m really glad you were with her.”

 

Risking her wrath, Spike put a hand on her forehead. “You sure you didn’t get hit on the head?”

 

She grabbed his hand, but instead of pushing him away, she squeezed it gently. “Very sure. I just got a glimpse of what might have been.”

 

Spike decided not to question. There was a light in her eyes that had been missing ever since she’d been brought back from the dead. “Good or bad?”

 

“Both.” She didn’t release his hand. “Come on. I need to get home, and we need to talk.”

 

He wondered if he should be worried.

 

~~~~~

 

The house was bright with lights as Buffy approached, and her steps slowed. She wanted to see her friends, but she didn’t want to deal with the recriminations she knew were coming. “Spike, would you wait out back for me?”

 

He hid the hurt expertly. “Yeah.”

 

She stopped him with a hand on his arm. “It’s not that. This is going to get messy, and I want to deal with one thing at a time.”

 

His brow furrowed. “What’s going on, Buffy?”

 

“I’ll tell you all about it, but I have to deal with my friends first.” Remembering what he’d done for her—what he would have done for her—made it easier to touch his cheek, to give him something to hold him over. “I promise. We’ll talk as soon as this is done.”

 

“All right, luv,” he said gently. “I’ll be out back.”

 

Spike disappeared into the shadows, and Buffy squared her shoulders. When she entered the house, she wasn’t surprised to see that everyone was there, even Tara. Spike had told her on the way back that he’d asked her to stay with Dawn since Willow wasn’t home yet. The tension was almost tangible, and she sighed.

 

“Hey, guys.”

 

“Where have you been?” Willow demanded. “We tried to do a locator spell, but it didn’t work.”

 

Buffy looked past them to Dawn. Her sister’s stare was accusatory. “I’m sorry I didn’t come home last night, Dawn. I should have called.”

 

Dawn’s face softened slightly. “Why didn’t you?”

 

“I didn’t know how much time had passed,” she replied honestly.

 

“Well, where were you?” Xander asked. “We were worried.”

 

Buffy smiled tightly. “I know, and I’m sorry. It couldn’t be helped.”

 

“Is everything okay, Buffy?” Tara asked softly.

 

She nodded. “Better than it’s been for a while.” She took a deep breath. Honesty was hard. “I needed some answers, and I found them, but I need you guys to give me some time and space to work through it all.”

 

Willow stared at her, hurt. “But, Buffy—”

 

“You pulled me out of heaven, Willow,” Buffy stated flatly. “And then you tried to erase my memories, because you want me to get over it. You all expect me to be the same person I was before, and I’m not.”

 

The room was silent. No one would meet her eyes except for Dawn, who was looking at her with wide eyes. “I know you guys meant well,” she continued, “but that doesn’t mean that I’m not having a hard time.”

 

No one seemed to know how to respond.

 

“What do you want us to say?” Xander finally asked.

 

She sighed, knowing from his tone that he didn’t quite get it yet. She wondered if they ever would, if they would ever know what she’d given up.

 

“You don’t have to say anything,” she replied. “And I hope you won’t say anything when I tell you that I’m in a relationship with Spike.”

 

As she’d suspected, that was a little too much to hope for.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy might have asked him to wait out back, but she hadn’t forbidden him from listening in. He’d had a hard time catching the first part of the conversation, but their raised voices carried outside easily. Xander shouted something about dangerous vampires and how she couldn’t be serious, and Willow fretted about how it was all her fault, and Buffy was clearly going through a hard time, and how she shouldn’t do anything she’d regret.

 

Since Spike hadn’t been able to hear precisely what had set everyone off, he wasn’t going to jump to conclusions.

 

The back door creaked as it opened, and Dawn slipped out. “I thought you might be out here.”

 

“How’d you know?” he asked.

 

“I’m a good guesser.” She sat down next to him. “So, you and my sister, huh?”

 

Spike felt his heart leap. “I guess so. Is that what she said?”

 

“She said you guys were in a relationship. You didn’t hear?”

 

“Didn’t quite catch that part.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Shouldn’t you be in there with her? She could probably use the moral support.” Giving her a sharp look, he added, “That’s assuming you’re in favor.”

 

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Duh. And Buffy’s doing fine on her own. I think she was getting ready to kick everybody out.”

 

Spike snorted. “Right. The day she chooses me over her friends—”

 

Buffy’s voice was clear as she said, “Spike spent all summer taking care of Dawn and watching your backs. I don’t know what your problem is now.”

 

He swallowed the rest of what he was going to say, muttering, “She must have been hit on the head.”

 

“I don’t think so,” Dawn said thoughtfully. “I think she just figured out what she wants.”

 

Buffy’s voice broke through the furor again. “No. I’m not going to talk about this, and I don’t need an intervention. I don’t know if it’s going to work out, but I _know_ we have a shot at it. So, you can either sit down and listen to what I have to say or leave.”

 

Spike stared at the door. What the hell had happened? She’d been insisting that there wasn’t anything between them just the other day, and had refused to talk to him. Now, she was defending their relationship—the relationship she’d insisted they _didn’t_ have.

 

Silence followed her ultimatum, then came the sounds of people leaving. Spike couldn’t make out voices, but not what was being said. From the voices, however, no one sounded very happy.

 

Buffy stuck her head out the back door a few minutes later. “You can come in now, Spike.” She looked weary, but her expression was one of grim satisfaction. “The fireworks are over.”

 

He followed Dawn inside, watching as Buffy began to pull the cartons of Chinese food out of the fridge. “Dawn, have you eaten?”

 

“I’m good,” she replied. “Tara made dinner tonight.”

 

Buffy nodded. “I’ll have to remember to thank her.”

 

“Where did Willow go?” Dawn asked.

 

Buffy shrugged. “I think she was going to stay with Xander. She was a little upset with me for reminding her what the road to hell is paved with.”

 

“And Xander?” Dawn asked.

 

Buffy began to dish up, seeming strangely calm, given everything that had happened. “He’ll get over it eventually. You know how Xander is about vampires.”

 

Spike met Dawn’s eyes, and she shrugged, indicating that she had no idea what was up with her sister. “So, uh, what exactly happened, Slayer?” he asked.

 

“Pretty much what I told you,” she replied. “There was an old man who offered to answer three questions, and I took him up on it.”

 

“What three questions?” Dawn asked.

 

Buffy pulled her plate out of the microwave and began to eat. “What if I hadn’t come back, what if I hadn’t jumped, and what if I dated Spike.”

 

Spike’s eyebrows rose at that last question. “And did you like the answers?”

 

“Not really,” Buffy admitted. “Not the answers to the first two anyway.”

 

“And the last one?”

 

A real smile formed. “That one was okay.”

 

“Just okay?” he pressed.

 

“Don’t push it, mister,” she warned, but there was an amused glint in her eye.

 

Dawn blurted out, “Does this mean that I can hang out with Spike again?”

 

“Yes, but not in the cemetery,” Buffy insisted.

 

“Okay,” Dawn agreed quickly, clearly willing to take what she could get. She looked at the clock. “I, uh, should get to bed. School tomorrow. ‘Night, Spike. ‘Night, Buffy.”

 

“Good night,” Buffy said, pulling her sister into a hug. Spike could just hear what Buffy whispered into her ear. “I love you.”

 

Dawn gave her a strange look but smiled. “Love you, too.”

 

Spike bade her goodnight, then turned to Buffy. “So, about that talk.”

 

“Yeah.” She sighed. “Let’s go into the living room.” He followed her, standing uncertainly when she sat down on the couch. “Sit down, Spike. Please?” She patted the cushion next to her.

 

He sat down. “What the hell happened, Buffy?”

 

She sighed. “It’s a long story.”

 

“I’ve got time if you do,” he responded.

 

Slowly, she began to explain. Spike stayed silent, listening incredulously as she told him how Casamir had showed her what might have been, and what could be. “It was a little _It’s A Wonderful Life_ ,” she admitted.

 

“You think it was the truth?” Spike asked.

 

Buffy shook her head. “I don’t know, but it’s plausible, right? I killed those Hellions when I came back. If I hadn’t—they’d already destroyed the ‘bot. The only way to close that portal was for either Dawn or me to die, so if I hadn’t jumped…” She trailed off.

 

Spike put a hand on her shoulder. “Glad she didn’t have to.”

 

“Yeah.” She stared off into the distance. “That’s just it, Spike. Every ‘might have been’ was worse than this one, but the one constant was you.”

 

He kept his peace, wondering where she was going with this.

 

“I thought—I thought if I let myself feel something for you, I’d make it worse,” she admitted. “Everything is already so messed up—I’m so messed up—and I figured us being together wouldn’t make it any better.”

 

“Have you changed your mind?”

 

“After what I saw, how could I not?” she asked. “I guess the question is if you think what I saw is even possible.” Buffy met his eyes, and he could see that she was still troubled by the idea. “I know I’m asking a lot of you.”

 

Spike looked away, wanting to give her an honest answer. She _was_ asking a lot; being with the Slayer meant turning his back on everything he’d been.

 

Of course, he’d been walking that road for a long time. He didn’t think he could go back to what he had been now.

 

Spike met her eyes, willing her to believe him. “I love you, Buffy. I’ve been changing for a long time now. Don’t think I could go back, even if I wanted to. Nothing to do but go forward.”

 

“That’s what I thought you’d say.” She offered him an apologetic smile. “I can’t tell you that I love you, but I think I need you.”

 

Spike cocked his head. “Luv, you told your friends about us. That’s going to hold me over for a long time now. Besides, all I want is to be with you. The rest will come.”

 

She sighed, pressing her forehead against his chest. “Thank you.”

 

“For what?” he asked, putting his arms around her and pulling her close.

 

“For everything. You make it easier to be here.”

 

Holding her in his arms, Spike was content. For Buffy to admit that she needed him, that he loved her—well, it was a good beginning. He could work with that.


End file.
